


Say Amen, there he goes again

by orphan_account



Series: comfortember [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Batfam fic with Timkon used as a background plot, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, But a happyish one, Caring Batfamily, Clark done goofed but got better eventually, Damian Wayne is a good little brother, Demisexual Tim Drake, Explosion, Fluff, Fluuuuuff, Humor and Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, Jack Drake was an asshole, Lex Luthor is an involved Dad, Mentions of Blood, Multi, No Angst, Protective Batfamily (DCU), Tim Drake is a human disaster, accidental innuendos, attempts at humor, but mostly - Freeform, but what's new, tim drake is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27470893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tim and Kon get together. That prompts their respective families to tell them how much they love and support them.Which is quite frankly a terrible development, if you ask Tim.For day 9 of comfortember: Confession(s)
Relationships: Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent
Series: comfortember [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995100
Comments: 21
Kudos: 334





	Say Amen, there he goes again

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome!! This was supposed to be posted in a few days' time but i thought it fit today's prompt better in the end :D  
> I'm quite happy to post this one, it was super fun to write. I miss this writing style.  
> As usual, I own nothing

It started - as it seemed to with increasing frequency these days - with Tim coming back to himself sporting a splitting headache and an overall feeling of profound confusion.

The world around him focused in a haze of settling dust and blinding heat. Chunks of concrete were scattered all over the… Room? (Warehouse? Warehouse.) and something really heavy across his back was pinning him to the ground. Which, in insight, presumably explained both the state of his head and the trail of crimson liquid slowly dripping down from his left eyebrow.

Some days in the Superheroing business simply started better than others. Tim tried to sit up, but it was impossible with the heavy weight across his back.

He blinked groggily.

What had happened?

His brain supplied him with a close-up of Kon’s grinning face telling him: ‘But, Tim! Think about how awesome pulling that off would be.’, and that really was all the explanation he needed. Tim moaned in despair.

He had to learn how to tell Kon no when that particular glint entered his best friend’s eyes. No matter how awesome the idea did sound. Maybe especially then. With his team, the more awesome the idea, the more risk of it ending in an explosion there usually was.

…Worth it.

The weight sprawled protectively across his back rolled off, flopping down next to him with a bright laugh.

Tim groaned again, for emphasis. And in mourning of his ruined, smoke smelling uniform and gauntlets. Just because Bruce had a strong non-killing philosophy of life did not mean the same thing applied to Alfred.

…

Still worth it.

“That. Was. Amazing.” Kon said with another adrenaline-giddy laugh. When Tim didn’t immediately answer, he turned to stare at him, poking him in the shoulder. “You okay? Oh man, your head’s bleeding. Don’t have a concussion, Batman would kill me.” He stopped babbling for a second before starting up again, voice laced with relief. “Nope, never mind, you’re fine, it’s just a cut. No more brain damaged than usual.”

Tim batted his hand away with a small grin.

“Please stop using your x-ray vision to look at the inside of my skull.”

“No can do, you’re too squishy. I’ve got to make sure you’re okay. Besides, I didn’t spend all those hours staring at pictures of brains for fun and giggles, you know?”

Fun and giggles. Honestly.

“You are aware that you’re allowed to swear, right?”

“Uhm? Not anymore? My dad and kid brother both have super-hearing, while my other dad thinks ‘uncouth language is unworthy of the Luthor name’. Direct quote, by the way. And have you met Ma Kent? I do not, nor will I ever, swear again in my life. I am not risking it.”

Tim rolled his eyes, smiling, finally pushing himself up to inspect the damage inflicted to his suit.

“Superman is off-planet, he can’t hear you right now. Your kid brother fights crime and knows mine.” Kon’s mouth, halfway through protesting already, shut. Tim continued. “Trust me, he’s heard a lot worse. How would the other two even know about you swearing in this completely empty warehouse?” Destroyed warehouse, too, but they were not mentioning that.

“Not. Risking. It. Ma has her ways.”

“You used to be way more rebellious than this,” he teased.

“Low blow,” Kon said, but then he caught himself. “Encouraging other people to swear is bad and you should feel bad. Shame on you, Tim.” He shook his head dramatically. “Shame.”

“Yes, I’m regular super-villain material.” Tim deadpanned, using a blood-stained gauntlet to dust blown-up warehouse grime from his costume.

“Accepting yourself for who you are is a huge step toward recovery. I’m proud of you, man.”

“Dork.”

“Gasp. Tim!”

That Tim considered himself to be the most reasonable person out of his friends and family was a fact of life that scared him sometimes. Often.

“Did you just say ‘gasp’ out loud?”

“How do you know Supes’ off-planet?” Kon evaded, smirking.

He chose to answer by putting his best “Neutral Bruce” expression on.

“Oh I hate it when you Bats do that.”

———————

So the thing was, Tim couldn’t go home- back to the Manor, that was- in this state. He couldn’t. There were things he’d learned to hide, since his first day as Bruce’s Robin. Things Bruce definitely would never need to know about, like random - totally innocuous - explosions, the fact that he’d lost his spleen, or the fact that he was kinda maybe sorta trying some things in the name of science.

Back then, Bruce hadn’t needed any reminder of the death of his son. Still didn’t, really, even now that Jason was alive.

All trauma put aside, Tim didn’t want to have to explain how, exactly, they’d made the warehouse explode (he had a feeling ‘Kon trying to use Heat Vision while doing sick flips on Tim’s skateboard’ would not go over well with his adoptive father. For someone with the power of flight, Kon was surprisingly bad at flips. And Tim certainly didn’t need a repeat performance of the “You’re endangering yourself, and that’s unacceptable” lecture. He’d heard it one too many times already.)

He was fine. Not hurt, not really. There was just the fact that he smelled like smoke, molten metal, and blood, and no, nope, nu-huh, he couldn’t be found by Bruce or by Dick in that state.

Besides, he was an adult. Technically. Emancipated, anyways. That he sometimes spent the night in the Manor, had moved back in, really, didn’t matter. He could absolutely handle this.

Slipping things past Bruce’s and Alfred’s near omniscient surveillance always was a fun intellectual challenge. It also was excellent training for infiltration and covert missions.

At least that was how he’d explain things if he ended up being caught anywhere he shouldn’t have been. They’d never managed to argue with sound logic in the past.

There was a reason Bruce had almost never managed to ground Tim.

———————

Slipping things past Bruce and Alfred’s constant surveillance might have been a fun intellectual challenge.

Slipping things past Dick Grayson’s most definitely was not.

Tim cursed, then ducked down to hang limply from the window’s edge, when he spotted the man lounging inside one of his safe-houses.

There went Tim’s plans to change and shower without bringing attention to himself. He had other safehouses in the city, sure, but none of them had a spare, clean, RR suit to come back to the Cave in. Clearly an oversight on his part.

And Damian was in Titans tower today.

Tim was fuc-

No, wait. Tim was not fucked. Tim refused to be fucked.

…

Moving on, Dick Grayson would not manage to land him in an entire world of trouble because Tim actually had a plan. A plan that was built entirely on Dick not spotting him, but still. A plan.

“Oh god, Tim.” Dick said, leaning halfway through the window. He hastily grabbed his arm and hauled him inside, clutched him tightly to his chest for a second. “Where are you hurt?”

Tim had no plan. Tim had the opposite of a plan. His plan had just gotten officially steamrolled by the force of nature that was an overprotective Dick Grayson. It now lied far down, splattered on the pavement with the sad remains of his dignity.

God, Tim missed peace. Tim missed full nights of sleep. Tim missed the simpler days where he and the family were more at odds and he didn’t have to fail at half-assing plans like this.

Okay, no, he didn’t.

Still, Tim missed peace. He missed the clarity it brought him. Though Kon looking out for him was nice. Waking up cuddled up to him had been nice. Very nice. Tim wouldn’t have minded doing that ever-

Wait-

“Tim? What the hell happened?”

“I think I might be in love with Kon,” he blurted out, the realization making it past his lips before his self-control got it in itself to wake up and maybe, just maybe, do something about it. Like stop him before he outed himself while covered in blood, and almost shaking in Dick’s grip. That would have been nice, too.

Dick froze, though his hands kept prodding at his forehead where he’d been examining his wound. It was more of a mental kind of freezing, Tim would argue. A blue screen of death. He’d steered them both far away from the window, too, in the brief moment Tim had been lost in thoughts.

“That’s… great, buddy.” Even Dick’s tone of voice indicated that there were very little great things in the world, actually, and that this revelation was both unexpected and likely not in the ‘great’ category. “Thank you for telling me. What happened?”

Tim chuckled. It might have sounded half-crazed to the inexperienced ear.

“No, this is terrible, actually. Kon’s my best friend, I can’t lose him. I can’t lose anyone. Not again. I wasn’t even aware I liked guys. Hell, I wasn’t even aware I liked people, period.”

Dick’s face did something entirely too complicated for him to process in that moment. He didn’t have to look at it for long, however, because he soon found himself folded tightly in Dick’s arms.

“Tim.”

“Yeah?”

“We love you. I love you. So much, kid, you don’t even know.”

———————

Looking back on it, even showing up in his apartment bloody, half blown up, and having soul deep realizations might have been fine. Salvageable. It had happened to every single one of them.

After a minor breakdown in Dick’s arms, and a thorough medical examination of his head back at the Cave, Tim had pined. He’d pined for approximately 2.7 weeks, before deciding that, no, actually, pining was awful and he owed Kon the truth.

A more accurate description of what had happened might be that Tim would have happily pined to the ends of earth, then beyond — he knew aliens, he’d been to space, he could do beyond — had Damian not decided to start meddling with his life.

Had the gremlin that was his kid brother not told Jonathan Kent that “Drake is on the roof yearning for your brother again. It’s frankly disturbing.” Or something along those lines. He didn’t know, he hadn’t actually been there for that part. For all Tim knew, Damian might have said “My adored and revered older brother Tim, held aloft by his deep love for family and duty; _and_ for your idiot brother who shouldn’t be so attractive, seriously, how is that fair to anyone, is currently contemplating his life choices, as one does.” It was unlikely, but so was Tim still having a social life, so, really, who could tell?

Tim didn’t recall having been such a little shit at age 12. Upon questioning, Dick had declared him to have been precisely this much of a little shit, yes, and told Tim that he loved him again. There definitely was some insistence on him being loved.

Tim wasn't accepting Dick's biased opinions anymore.

What had happened, was that Tim had been on the roof, enjoying the way the sun seemed to refuse to ever show its face beyond Gotham’s cloud cover, listening to music that was not emo, no matter how Jason tried to label it. All in all, having a nice day, if a drizzled upon one.

Then Kon had shown up, panting, hair in disarray from flying too quickly, red in his very kissable face.

Tim was a little bit unclear on what had happened next. But somehow, he’d ended the night with soft lips on his, and a lap full of Conner Kent, and, yeah.

He was okay with that.

———————

So, Tim was now in a relationship. With Kon. Now, he didn’t lack experience. He’d been in many relationships before.

He was still surprised by how little it changed things between him and Kon.

“Of course it doesn’t,” Jason had snickered, unapologetic, to his face. “You guys were basically married already.”

Tim had graciously resisted the temptation to kick him in the shin.

“Seriously, though,” Jason had added, and Tim had known he was doomed when Jason had actually near-stuttered on the next words. “You know where the Kryptonite is, yeah? Because, I don’t give a damn about his powers. I don’t give a damn if he’s god himself, he doesn’t get to take advantage of you-”

Tim wasn't accepting Jason's biased opinions anymore, either.

———————

Or Damian’s.

“Drake. Know that Jon and I will be upstairs.”

“Okay?”

“We are there.” Damian repeated very loudly, walking backwards to the Kent’s staircase, keeping eye contact with them. “Right there.”

“Okay?” Tim said again.

“There will be no fornication on this couch.”

_“Come back here, you little shit-”_

———————

Or Steph’s.

“Tim,” Kon said, cupping his cheek tenderly, “I love you.”

In the alley just below them, Spoiler cupped her mouth with her hands and bellowed.

“No rooftop canoodling! Chop chop, get, you can make moon eyes at each other later. We’ve fish guts stains to clean up.”

Kon chuckled, resting his forehead on Tim’s.

“And I can definitely appreciate how much your family does, too.”

———————

Or Bart’s.

Tim had wanted to tell Bart personally, assess his reaction somewhere he could have a serious, open, conversation without potentially hurting Kon’s feelings. He didn’t want Bart feeling left out, either, since a relationship would mean a shift in team’s dynamics, and at its core, Young Justice had been very much the four of them, at first. Of course, it had shifted well beyond that, over time. But still.

Kon was telling Cassie. It was only right Tim told Bart.

And he was having a bad case of nerves.

It wasn’t that he thought his friend was homophobic. It was just that he never had to tell anyone before. having a makeout session on the roof of the house of a whole family of detectives tended to negate that a bit. And, despite his best effort, sometimes Tim could still hear Jack Drake’s opinions on ‘those damn a word that Tim refused to repeat, even in his head, or he would lose his nerve before actually telling anyone he was Kon’s boyfriend’.

As it was, stumbling through the explanation had been difficult enough already.

Bart had taken one look at his trembling hands, and sped them both to the roof, before trusting a container and a fork at him.

“What’s this?” Tim asked, a little dazed by his sudden deceleration.

“Apple and potato salad”

He stared down at the food.

“What?”

Bart grinned.

“That’s the fun of it. When it’s done right, you never know exactly what you’ll get until it’s already on your fork.”

“I suppose?”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

“What’s all this about?”

His friend hummed thoughtfully, slinging an arm over Tim’s shoulders.

“Well. I don’t always notice these things. But the way Kon tells it, you’re not eating enough. and I’m always eating too much-”

“Bart.”

“Might as well make good use of my culinary skills, dontcha think?”

Still, Tim had to get his point across.

“You know we care, right? We’re not going to cast you aside, or ignore the team.”

“Well, to be honest, I kinda thought you two were together already.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

Bart hummed, kicking his legs quickly against the side of the building.

“You know how Max used to try to teach me to think more?”

Tim smiled. “Yeah. I definitely remember that.”

“Well, you think too much.”

Tim punched him playfully in the arm. Bart stuck his tongue out at him.

“Try to listen to my point. I’m not about to tell you to think less. That never works. If we could have total control over the amount of thinking we’re doing, we wouldn’t get in those messes, right? In fact, that’s gotta be the most unhelpful piece of advice anyone’s ever given me — andyes, byanyoneIdoalsomeanMaxdidyouknowabouthetimehebecameMushroomMan?Nowthatwastraumatizing,hewasonlywearingaloinclothdidievertellyouthat-”

“Bart.”

“Right, sorry. Where was I? Oh. So I’m not going to tell you to think less. Just, when you get stuck in there,” Bart poked him twice right in the middle of his forehead. “-like that. Come get us, alright? We love you. Why on earth wouldn’t I be okay with this?”

——————

So the relationship was going well. Kon was. Kon was amazing, and Tim’s family and friends had been supportive, if annoying.

Tim was having a good time.

That should have tipped him off.

It really should have.

It had all been going _so well._

Until.

 _Until_.

——————

Tim was pretty sure this was what the worst of his nightmares, the kind that left him shaky, barely remembering what happened except for a vague sense of terror, were like.

“So, Timothy,” Luthor began, delicately wiping the corner of his mouth with his napkin. Tim felt a part of his soul shrivel up and die. “I don’t believe we’ve been… formally introduced before.”

“Mr Luthor,” Tim replied, then stopped talking, at a loss for words. Part of what was left of Luthor’s soul visibly left to join the desolate fragment Tim had just lost to some kind of purgatory of awkwardness.

“Mr Luthor,” he started up again, bravely. “It’s nice to officially meet you. Kon told me a lot about you.”

Silence. Depressing, painful silence.

“So, you’re dating Conner.”

“Yes, sir.”

“My son.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Lex, don’t pressure him.”

Luthor sent Clark, sent Superman, a look so cold it could have chilled the Fortress of Solitude.

“May I remind you,” He said, and while it was just as composed as Luthor ever was, the room lost any remaining warmth as surely and quickly as if it had gotten taken over by Mr Freeze. “That while your previous parenting exploits, or surprising lack thereof, thoroughly showed how _invested_ you are in Conner’s well being, in no way does-”

Tim quietly wished for the Evil Future version of him to take pity on his soul and crash the party, maybe stab him a little.

Evil Future Tim was even more of a sadistic bastard than Morally Ambiguous Present Tim had initially believed him to be, however, and did not deign end his suffering.

Instead, all he got was Kon’s sad attempt at a distraction.

“Tim’s lost his spleen,” Kon blurted out.

“Indeed?” Luthor said.

Bruce tightened his grip around his fork. It was near undetectable, if it weren’t for a light sound; the sound of Tim’s future independence shattering into tiny itty bitty pieces on the floor of Lex Luthor’s dining room. Falling apart like the beautiful dream it had once been.

Near undetectable, but to Tim, it couldn’t have been more obvious had Bruce stood up on the table and shouted “Tim’s what?” at the top of his lungs.

The two Kryptonians cringed. Kon at least had the decency to shoot him an apologetic look, though it was a little incredulous too.

Tim tried to pick the withered remains of his Independence out of the fire that was Bruce’s protectiveness. He needed the subject far away from his spleen, and fast.

“I don’t need protection,” he said. Luthor raised a judgemental eyebrow. Bruce’s poor abused fork bent a little under his grip. Task failed successfully. Tim suddenly realized it might not have been the smartest way to word that in a room full of your overprotective family and your boyfriend’s also overprotective family. “ Protecting," he hastily corrected, cringing. “Anyone’s. I don’t need anyone’s protection. I’m fine. It’s handled.”

“You’re being safe, I trust?” His new Supervillain father-in-law asked derisively. And seriously, how was this Tim’s _life_? What malignant god had he angered?

“Dad!” Kon exclaimed, red in the face.

“It’s a fair question,” Bruce got out, blandly.

It had all been going so very well, until they accidentally forced a Lex Luthor-Batman alliance to form.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!! Please take care of yourself <3


End file.
